


Hand In Hand In Hand

by Not_You



Series: Will Graham And The Accidental Harem [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fellatio, Fluff and Angst, Ice Cream, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Polyamory Negotiations, Relationship Negotiation, adults using their words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-21 06:37:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6041871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting the <strike>band</strike> triad together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Alone in his little house, Will sips whiskey and does his best to remain calm. Alana is due back any minute, and he has no idea what Beverly might have told or not told her. He really hopes that he doesn't have to be the one to begin this conversation, so tense that it makes Applesauce whine where she's snuggled up to next to him on the couch. He sighs and scratches her behind the ears and then down her neck, ruffling her coat.

“Easy, girl,” he says. “We'll be all right.” Trying to convince dogs is the first step to convincing himself, and by the time he hears Alana's key in the door, Will almost believes that everything will be all right. The dogs go to greet her, led by Applesauce and Winston, and she smiles, crouching to pet them and to kiss Applesauce on the head.

“Hey guys,” she coos. “Everybody okay?”

“So far,” Will says, voice a little rough with liquor. Alana looks up at him, eyes concerned even as she smiles.

“Good,” she says, and stands up to hang her coat and toe off her boots before she heads into the kitchen for a canned Guinness, one of the only things she can stand to drink these days. “How was your visit?”

Will chuckles, because how the fuck is he supposed to answer that? “Good,” he says, shrugging. “Beverly is alive and conscious to visit.”

Alana smiles, and settles in beside him. “Yeah, that part is pretty important.”

“I... we had a moment.” Alana has the sense not to ask him what this means. She just sits there and waits for him, almost as patient as the dogs. “A moment where she kissed me, and I told her about us,” Will grimaces, fidgeting with his glass, “I mean, that there was ever the possibility of an us. She told me to talk to you and get back to her.”

“So let's talk,” Alana says, taking a sip of her beer. “She told me that she would be happy to share.”

“...Excuse me?” Will says, and there's a thread of raw terror running through his incredulity, because there is always the possibility that he has started hallucinating again.

Alana smiles with concern in her eyes, and touches Will's cheek lightly. “She said that she would be happy for us to be together, if we let her in on it.”

“So you and her...”

“We don't know each other very well, but yes, we're both bi and have nothing against each other.”

“Now I'm expecting to wake up,” Will mutters, and she laughs.

“That's pretty much how I feel.”

“Really? Because you haven't even gone for a non-brain-fried kiss.” Will tries not to sound petulant, but he's not sure that he succeeds.

“I wasn't sure you wanted me to,” she says, and gives him another of those incredibly sad smiles. It makes his chest hurt, and he has to look away, unable to bear the pain and the hope in her eyes.

“I never said that,” Will mutters, and risks another glance at her face. Her eyes are brighter now, and he's transfixed by them as she sets her beer aside and leans into his space. She's timid but determined, and Will trembles, pulling her into his arms and kissing her. It's so much better now. He's not a sweaty mess and she's not tense with the certainty that she shouldn't be here. This time she lets herself melt in his arms, and grabs a fistful of his hair, tugging just hard enough as she parts her lips, sighing as Will slides his tongue into her mouth. He moans, wanting to pull her into his lap but not sure if that's too much, too soon. Alana presses against him, though, her breasts so soft and so wonderfully present on his chest. 

Will whimpers, the sound muffled but loud as Alana sucks on his tongue and shifts up onto her knees, hesitating. Will puts a hand on her hip and tugs her forward. In a moment she's straddling his lap, and he's wondering what the etiquette is on dry-humping at this point, because he's already half hard and things show no sign of getting less interesting. Alana sighs, gripping his hips with her knees and just pressing on him, not moving or grinding at all. It's incredibly frustrating, but in the best possible way. Will clutches at her and whimpers, wondering if Alana would be interested in dominating him on purpose. 

For now she just moans softly and moves his head wherever she wants it. Will feels like there's a direct line from his scalp to his cock, and can't help a small thrust upward that makes Alana gasp. She bites at the corner of his mouth and then lower, pressing her teeth into his neck so gently that it doesn't remind him of anything. He tips his head back and whimpers as she covers his throat in kisses and bites, sucking on the tender skin, so gentle that it doesn't frighten him at all.

“A-Alana,” he gasps as she bites his collar bone, “I d-don't know where you want to stop, but if it's soon I'm gonna need a minute alone.”

She sighs. “We should probably do that.”

“What do you want to do?” he asks her, and she smiles.

“An honest answer isn't going to help us do the right thing, Will.” The turn of phrase and her deliberately even tone remind him of Hannibal, and it's like slivers of ice are melting into his bloodstream.

“Honesty is very important to me these days,” he says, trying to keep the roughness out of his voice. Alana must hear it anyway, because she leans in and kisses him again.

“All right,” she murmurs into his mouth. “What I want to do,” she kisses him again and then pulls away to nuzzle his cheek and breathe the next words into his ear, “is to hold you down and ride your cock until we both fucking cry.” She sighs and sits back to look into his eyes. “Unfortunately, I'm not on any form of birth control and I have nothing with me.”

Will sighs. “If I have any condoms left, they're probably expired. So we're going to be responsible adults and masturbate?”

“Yes,” Alana says, “but it's not as if we can't help each other with that.”

Will whines, and he can feel a wet spot forming on his underwear at the thought. “Th-that, that sounds really good,” he whispers.

Both of them are a little shaky, so it takes a moment to get up, and several more moments to wobble up the stairs. It doesn't help that Alana keeps kissing him on every alternate step, but of course Will isn't complaining. Somehow they make it up to the guestroom at last, Will's Fortress Of Solitude. It's really hard to jerk off with dogs trying to figure out what you're doing, and a guy can't do it in the shower _every_ time.

After they gracelessly haul their clothes off and drape them over the nearest convenient thing, they crawl into bed and Will moans as Alana grips his cock. She has the softest hands he has ever felt, and as she squeezes him he can't do anything but clutch at her back and whimper. She ranges over him and brushes one nipple across his lips, purring as he latches on, suckling as he gropes her perfect ass. Alana shivers, and Will spreads her open from behind, feeling how wet she is already with curious fingertips. She's silky-slick, and incredibly tight when he pushes one finger into her. She shivers and gasps, smiling down at him.

“You have really nice hands,” she says, and he laughs, breathless and already close to coming.

“So do you,” he gasps, and then cries out as she grips him harder. Alana strokes him hard and fast through his climax, purring encouragement and then squeaking in surprise when Will tackles her onto her back, grinning down at her before working two fingers into her. She pants and moans as he works deeper and deeper, swollen and tender and hot around him. She rubs her own clit harder than he would have dared, and when she comes, Will feels like he has never seen anything more beautiful.


	2. Chapter 2

Beverly can finally escape the hospital in the morning, and seldom has she been more delighted to leave a place. Mom may have to keep the home fires burning, but Mary and Jo have taken the day to drive their sister home and to make sure she's comfortable. It's sweet of them, but also fucking maddening, because they're both acting like she's still in danger, prowling the whole apartment to make sure that everything is goddamn child-safe.

“You know,” Beverly says, from her place at the kitchen table, wrapped in a blanket and holding a cup of the herbal tea Mom gives people whenever anything goes wrong, “I did shoot the guy. If he comes after me now we're gonna need an exorcist.”

“Don't even joke,” Jo says, because she's the one who totally believes in ghosts. To be fair, Hannibal would probably be the hungriest ghost ever. Beverly shivers, and takes a long sip of tea. Broken leg, broken heart, stomachache, cold, whatever it is, you drink the fucking tea. It's weird and bitter and tastes like home, and she is inexpressibly glad to have it. And to have her two little sisters, who care so much. When they insist on spending the night, Beverly doesn't even complain, and all three of them drink way too much tea and marathon a bunch of the soppy K-drama Mary is currently into.

Because Mary is the shortest, she takes the couch, and Jo shares Beverly's bed, the two of them mumbling themselves to sleep the way they used to when they shared a room as kids. Sure enough, Beverly dreams about grappling with Hannibal and about all that human charcuterie. She wakes up in a cold sweat and it's really good to have Jo there to pet her and hush her and remind her that she got out, that Hannibal is dead and she is not, that for once justice has been done.

Of course, by the end of breakfast Beverly is remembering why she lives alone as her sisters reach a fever pitch in their fussing. By the time she finally shoves them out the door, it's early afternoon, and she's so glad of her solitude that it's dinner time before she even wonders what Will and Alana are doing. It's one of those psychic link moments, where just as she's thinking about calling Will, her phone lets out the wolf howl that she assigned him what feels like a million years ago.

“Hey, Will,” she greets him, suddenly so glad to be alive that it hurts.

“Hey,” he says softly. “How are you?”

“Pretty good. Just starting to wonder what you were up to.”

“Uh. I talked to Alana. …And some other stuff.”

“You know I want details,” she teases.

“We could come over and give you some,” Will says, sounding so timid and hopeful that it breaks her heart.

“Why don't you? My sisters prepped a vegetarian stir-fry before they left. You can bring dessert or something, if you want.”

“Okay,” Will says, and she's suddenly desperate to touch him.

“It'll be good to see you both,” she says, and gives him the directions again before they hang up. He's been to Lab Rat Movie Night, but only twice, so it's best to be safe. She has about forty-five minutes until her guests arrive, so she takes the time to primp a little. Some smoothing serum, a little lip gloss, and of course, real clothes. She's not willing to actually put on a bra or real pants, but she does have a sleeveless red shift that's just as comfortable as pajama pants while being a hell of a lot prettier. Her nipples are remarkably obvious in it, but that isn't exactly a drawback, considering that this is going to be some kind of three way not-date. Or maybe it is a date, it's hard to say. 

Either way, she's glad that Mary is so much better at fine chopping than she is. Beverly's stir-fry always tastes good, but she gets too much meticulous picking at things at work, and the pieces tend to be kind of big and horsey. This way she has the best of both worlds to offer on this momentous occasion.

By the time the doorbell rings, the rice is done and the sauce is mostly mixed, praise Jesus. She makes sure nothing will boil over or otherwise cause disaster, and then scrambles to answer the door. She's too cautious not to look through the peephole first, but of course it's the people she's expecting. Will has actually shaved, bless his heart, and Alana looks amazing. Beverly takes a deep breath, and opens the door.

“Hi! What'd you bring me?” she chirps, and Alana laughs.

“Ice cream cake.”

“Awesome. I used to get that for my birthday.”

“So it seemed an appropriate way to celebrate your being alive,” Will says quietly, and she smiles, taking the box from his hands.

“Every day is a good day to be alive,” she says, “and I love ice cream cake.” A moment after she gets it stashed in the freezer, her phone rings. It actually spares them some awkwardness, because while she's busy assuring her sisters that she's fine (Mary and Jo live the closest, so they're on Take Care Of Beverly duty) Will and Alana find the beer. On her current meds Beverly is going to have to stick to tea and juice, but there's no reason the others shouldn't have a Kirin on her. They settle on opposite ends of the couch and sip from the brown bottles, waiting for her to join them. It's painfully polite, and she flops down into the space between them with her cup of lemonade, looking from Alana to Will.

“So,” she says, so casual that it's a parody of itself, “how've you been?”

Will chuckles, and rubs at the back of his neck, looking happy and guilty. “I, uh. I've been pretty good.”

“Please tell me you guys at least kissed.”

“It went a lot further than that,” Will admits, and Beverly laughs, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

“Good.” She glances at Alana again. “Which of you wants to tell me all about it?”

Will demurs, and Alana takes over. She's a little clinical as she gives Beverly all the gory details, but that doesn't matter too much. Even with Alana trying to be as cool and formal as possible about the whole thing, it's pretty hot. Will flushes and squirms while Alana tells Beverly how good his cock feels in her hand, so hot, and thicker than she would have expected.

“He's uncircumcised,” she adds, and Beverly grins, looking over at Will.

“Really? That's cool.”

“They don't cut preemies,” Will mutters, taking another swig of his beer. “Figure they've got troubles enough.”

“I think it's messed up that they cut everybody else. And don't worry, I've fooled around with enough foreign-born boys to know what I'm doing.” Alana winces for just a moment, and Beverly does her best not to cringe because yeah, Hannibal was presumably uncut too, being all European and old. Hopefully Will will get a chance to override that. “So,” Beverly says, determined not to let anyone get mired down, “who's hungry?”

Luckily, everyone is hungry, and Beverly can heat up the wok and get started. Will has been here before, so he sets the table while Alana passes Beverly each ingredient as she asks for it. This is probably reminding her of Hannibal, and Beverly can only hope that the lack of meat is helping.


	3. Chapter 3

Alana knows full well that Hannibal has fucked up her concepts of nurturance and of the connection between food and emotional intimacy, but this is helping. The vegetables are crisp and colorful, and Beverly cooks without any of Hannibal's showy, professional tricks. She's even a little sloppy, laughing and cursing and scooping escaped ingredients off of the stove top. Alana hasn't spent much time this close to her, and she always discovers some new facet of Beverly's beauty. The way her hair shines under residential lighting, the richness of the black no longer compromised by sickly hospital fluorescents, and the way she wears her bruises without pride or shame. 

They're just there, a dark ring where Hannibal nearly ended her life. It stands out so perversely against her beautiful skin, and she carries herself like it's not there at all. Alana does her best not to stare. To just stare at the bruises, anyway. For the last few years Alana hasn't been thinking much about the issue of sexual partners, and now that the topic has come up again, she can't think about much else. The way Beverly's shift clings to her is no help at all. It clearly delineates the various things she isn't wearing, as well as the long, toned lines of her body.

Alana jumps when Will comes up beside her, and he laughs, his eyes a little guilty. “Sorry, I just wanted to see how it was coming along.”

“The food, or Alana's ogle-map of me?” Beverly asks, and Alana squeaks, staring down at her feet as she feels her face going red. Beverly laughs. “Hey, it's cool. I'm planning on ogling the hell out of you.”

“Good,” Alana mutters, grateful when Will takes her hand and squeezes it.

“Don't tease too much,” he says. “Alana takes things seriously.”

“I know, the poor baby.” She takes the last of the greens from Alana's hands, and tosses them in. “This'll just be another minute, so you guys might as well dish up some rice.”

Will serves them both, the rice gleaming white, that perfect texture that Alana can never manage. Sure enough, by the time Will has dished up three plates and has put a handful of chopsticks and forks on the table, Beverly is shifting the wok off of the heat, and asking Alana to fetch her the rice paddle and a big wooden spoon.

The stir-fry turns out to be delicious, sweet and savory and not just vegetarian but vegan. It's a very happy accident, and Alana feels a sudden surge of dolorous gladness to be eating with people who understand. Will seems to see it on her face or hear it in her voice, taking her hand under the table as Beverly chatters away about her family's recipes and her sisters's superior vegetable-chopping skills. It does Alana good to realize that Beverly is nervous too, and by the end of the meal she's much calmer. So is Will, which is practically a miracle. He seems to be terrified that this entire thing will fall through, and Alana can't really blame him. She squeezes his hand under the table, and the way he smiles is beautiful.

“So,” Beverly says as Will gets up to clear the table, “Netflix and chill?”

Alana laughs. “As long as some conversation is involved. We're too old to not be using our words.”

“And you are so good at that,” Beverly says, and actually winks at her, which just makes Alana blush again. “And so fucking cute,” Beverly adds, much more softly, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Her lips are even softer than Alana remembers, and she shivers.

“I try,” she murmurs, and kisses Beverly on the mouth because she hasn't done it since the hospital. Now it's much better, since they're somewhere so much more comfortable. 

Although separate kitchen chairs aren't much good for making out, so when they part, eyes bright and breath short, Beverly asks, “Couch?”

“Couch,” Alana agrees, and Will chuckles, running water over the dishes and then following them to Beverly's couch, which is a huge, old thing, as comfortable as it is ugly.

“Should we put Will in the middle?” Beverly asks, and Will makes this strange little noise in his throat, his eyes wide and a little starey, like he's heading into some fight-or-flight-or-fuck state, and Alana can't really blame him.

“Does that sound comfortable?” she asks, since she's supposed to be good at using her words.

“Way better than comfortable,” Will says, and she shivers at the way his voice has already gone husky.

“Good,” she says, surprised at how normal her own voice sounds. She settles herself at one end of the couch and Beverly takes the other as Will cautiously sinks into the middle. He glances to Beverly, then Alana, then back to Beverly again, and she laughs.

“Don't worry, you don't have to score this ping-pong match,” she says, leaning in and kissing him on the mouth. It's slow and it's sweet and Alana can see Will relaxing a little in Beverly's arms. She reaches out to feel the change, just squeezing his shoulder with one hand before pressing herself against his back, her arms around his waist as he shudders and sighs through his nose.

“Better?” Alana asks when Beverly starts nibbling her way up Will's jawline toward his ear.

“Yeah,” he says, and then shudders as Beverly nibbles and licks, the delicate tip of her tongue tracing the edge and making Will bite his lip to muffle another little noise in his throat.

“You know we're gonna want to hear you,” Beverly purrs, and Alana giggles at the way Will whines. The sound drops into a moan as Alana kisses the back of his neck, soft and wet and sucking. She bites him gently, and he shivers, panting softly as one hand wraps itself into the front of Beverly's shift and the other clutches backwards at Alana's shirt. She purrs, putting her hand over his as she bites the crook of his neck and Beverly starts sliding her hands under Will's shirt.

“Mm, so smooth,” she says. “Wouldn't have thought it with how prickly your face is.”

Will chuckles, and raises his arms to let her pull it completely off. Beverly beams at him as she sets it aside. “God, you really are pretty,” she says, kissing him again and then lowering her mouth to his chest, making contented little humming noises as she explores and Will squirms. Tipping him back and into her lap is easy, like a dance move they all know. Beverly sprawls with him, and her eyes are sparkling when she glances up at Alana.

“You all right over there?”

Alana smiles. “I'm enjoying myself immensely,” she says, “but I would like to get rid of my bra soon.”

“I bet your tits are even prettier than Will's,” Beverly says, and Alana can feel herself blushing.

“Maybe,” she says, a little surprised at her own coyness, and Beverly grins at her.

“Will, honey?” she murmurs. “Should we stay on the couch, or go to bed?”

“I'm good either way,” he breathes, and Alana chuckles, unbuttoning her shirt.

“Well, if my vote is the tiebreaker...”

Will whimpers, struggling to watch her, and Alana curls down to kiss his forehead before draping her shirt over the back of the couch and finally getting her bra off with an involuntary noise of relief.

“Okay, Will,” Beverly says, “you have to share the Prettiest Tits trophy.”

“I would be honored,” Will says, and Alana laughs.


	4. Chapter 4

As two of the most gorgeous women Will has ever met push him down onto the bed, he laughs, feeling cracked and crazy and free.

Beverly just grins at him as she unzips his jeans. “Share your little joke with the rest of the class?”

“Dear Penthouse,” Will says, still snickering, “I'm a criminologist in a small Virginia town...” Beverly cackles, working his pants and underwear off and dropping them over the edge of the before swooping down to kiss him, which is maybe the only thing that could keep him from watching Alana finish undressing that he wouldn't resent. He helps Beverly get him out of his shirt, and by the time she pulls away Alana is gloriously naked, stretched out beside him. 

He can't help but stare like an idiot, since he has wanted her since the day they met and this all still feels unreal. She smiles, and takes his hand, putting it on the curve of her hip. He shivers, gripping gently and then sliding up, fascinated by the lines of her body and the smoothness of her skin. She leans in and kisses him as he lightly squeezes her breast and thinks about their shared imaginary trophy for a moment before he loses track of everything but how warm and soft she is.

“You guys are so fucking pretty,” Beverly says softly, and Will pulls away just in time to watch her pull her shift over her head.

“Not just us,” Alana says, and Will feels like he could watch her watch Beverly forever. And then Beverly's callused hand is on his jaw, turning his face to hers so she can kiss him, soft and gentle and devouring. He can't help a quiet moan, and she purrs into his mouth in response, pulling away just enough to catch his lower lip between her teeth as Alana nuzzles the back of his neck. Her soft hands come around to gently pinch his nipples. He flinches a little and she murmurs, “too hard?” into his ear.

“My dick, maybe,” Will mutters, and Beverly laughs, biting his neck as Alana pinches him again, making him clutch at both of them and let out a truly pathetic noise. It's high-pitched and cracked and he's just glad that they both seem to like it. Alana slides one leg over his hip and Beverly presses against him, putting one hand on Alana's knee and then sliding her way up.

“I can't believe I'm the only one here who's actually naked,” Beverly says. “That's just ridiculous.”

“You're right,” Alana says, and sits up, leaving Will's nipples utterly bereft as she slithers out of her skirt and stockings. Like she's reading his mind, Beverly gently rolls Will onto his back and lowers her mouth to his chest, silky hair trailing over his skin as she sucks one nipple into her mouth.

“Fuck,” Will whispers, throwing his forearm across his eyes. Alana joins Beverly a moment later and Will groans, so hard now that it's starting to ache. He's unsure of the etiquette for having two girls sucking on his nipples, and settles for gently gripping both of them by the hair and leaving the complex decisions up to them as they take their time exploring him, breaking away every now and then to kiss each other, slow and deep and almost intolerably beautiful. Beverly runs a curious hand up his inner thigh and he whimpers, arcing up into the touch as best he can. She chuckles, gently gripping his cock and giving it a friendly little squeeze that makes him whine and squirm. Alana's hand comes up to cup his balls, and Will wonders if he's going to fucking die of this.

“Hey, Will?” Beverly murmurs.

“Y-yeah?”

“Before we get really invested, how do you feel about a finger up the butt?”

He laughs, breathless and squirming as Alana kisses his chest. “J-just go slow and I should be fine.”

“Is that a favorite pastime?” Alana asks, and the way she sounds like the two of them are talking about tennis at a cocktail party makes Will's cock twitch, a drop of precome running down to Beverly's fingers.

Beverly grins. “Kinda, yeah. I just like fingering in general.”

“I'll have to keep that in mind,” Alana murmurs, and kisses her again.

“Uh, if anybody needs me to last...” Will says, and Alana chuckles, pulling away from Beverly to kiss him.

“How should we do this, then?” she murmurs, and Will whimpers again.

“I'm down for whatever,” hes says, and Beverly gets the reference and laughs.

“Personally,” she says, just barely stroking Will, a slow, gentle tease that's slowly driving him the good kind of insane, “I want to blow you while Alana sits on your face, but I don't wanna be pushy.”

“Be pushy,” Will breathes, and they both laugh at that.

“Well?” Beverly says, looking to Alana again, one eyebrow raised. 

Alana laughs and kisses her, and then climbs up Will's body, straddling his chest and gazing down at him. He can smell her, this close, and his mouth starts to water with the desire to taste. 

“Do you get cold sores?” she asks, so businesslike that it would take Will out of the moment if anything could. 

As it is, he just shakes his head. “No.”

“Good,” she says, and knee-walks the rest of the way up, dark curls and musky-sweet scent filling his world. He moans softly as she lowers herself onto his mouth. He sighs, taking a long moment just to taste her, and to learn the shape of her hard little clit as she slowly starts to rock her hips. Will sighs, reaching up to take two handfuls of her perfect ass, moving with her as she starts to ride his tongue, panting quietly.

It's a bit of wrench, not being able to watch Beverly as she goes down on him, but Will figures that he'll live. And that she doesn't get cold sores, either. She really does know what she's doing, humming contently around him as her tongue explores his foreskin, figuring out how much give and slide it has without hurting him even a little. And a little is okay. As the three of them find a rhythm, Will melts into his task, forgetting about Beverly's earlier question until one slick fingertip starts to rub at his hole. He forces himself to relax and then moans against Alana as it pushes in up to the knuckle, gliding easily. It has been a long time, but Will's body remembers, and he groans as he licks up and into Alana as Beverly strokes him from the inside.

Will doesn't have time to warn Beverly before he comes, but she just hums around him and swallows everything down as Alana speeds up and cries out, grinding down into Will's mouth as she comes. He clings to her, wrapping his arms around her waist as she finally stills, leaning on the headboard and raising her hips a little to let him breathe. Beverly lets Will slip out of her mouth and groans deep in her chest, bucking against the sheet.

“You know,” Alana says in the quiet, “I feel a little cheated that neither of us got to make you come, Beverly.”

She laughs. “There's always next time. Dessert when we can get up?”

“Of course,” Alana says, climbing off of Will's face to kiss her slick from his mouth as he makes little noises he can't quite help. Beverly crawls up to lie on his other side, and offers him fingers covered in her own slick. He licks them clean slowly, and then dozes off for a minute, unable to help it. When he opens his eyes again, Alana and Beverly are sharing ice cream cake, using his belly as table. He chuckles, careful not to knock it over, and obediently lets Beverly feed him a forkful. Alana smiles, and Will is profoundly grateful to be here. There's no easy way to say it, though, so he just lets Alana give him another bite of melting sweetness.


End file.
